Growing up in the seventies in a hippie-centric town in Oregon, my family knew plenty of “lazy” people. I, unfortunately, was not destined to become one of them.

When my mother referred to a lazy person, she typically followed it with the three letters, S.O.B. There was my Uncle Jim that Lazy S.O.B, and the Lazy S.O.B gas station attendant at the Chevron station. If a person were especially lazy, they would earn the prefix, “No-good.” This special title was usually reserved for anyone in politics or from California. I had no idea back then what the abbreviation S.O.B. stood for, but I did have a clear understanding that I should do everything in my power to become the opposite of it.

The summer I turned 10 years old, I made the terrible mistake of complaining to my mother that I was bored. A few moments later, I found myself doing hard time, re-stacking the cord of firewood closer to the house. After that, I always found something to do. I made certain never to appear bored, but just “between activities.”

According to my parents, all teenage behavioral issues stemmed from boredom. Drugs, sex, loitering and vandalism could always be attributed to a kid having too much time on their hands. Enacting preventative measures, my parents filled my every waking moment with sports and jobs: all-day track camp in the summer; weekend softball games; chin-up challenges; jogging contests; newspaper routes and berry-picking stints. Eventually, I learned the importance of securing my summer job before one was picked for me. Working at the mall selling Lawman jeans and shaker sweaters definitely beat hunching over strawberry plants all day in the hot sun.

This summer, I turned thirty-nine. And the strange thing is, I’m still as busy as ever. I’m what my husband calls, “The Queen of doing two things at once.” If I’m driving, I’m calling someone I haven’t spoken to in a long while. If I’m cooking, I’m analyzing my kitchen layout for possible design improvements. If I’m on a business call, I’m checking my email. If I’m helping my son brush his teeth, I’m cleaning the bathroom countertops. And if I’m taking a nice long shower, I’m brainstorming new business ideas that will finally make us all rich. No wonder I’m exhausted! But my parents will be happy to know that I’m not out spray-painting city hall, or worse, drinking from a beer bong.

I have my parents to thank for my excellent work ethic, my sheer determination, and ultimately my success. But oh, how I long to be a lazy S.O.B. It’s well into summer in North Carolina where I live now, and the magnolias are blooming, the porch chairs are rocking and the rainstorms are rolling in. I have Summeritus in the worst way. It’s going to take a concentrated effort to de-program myself from my overachiever syndrome, but this summer, I’ve decided to try.

My role model is my eight-year-old son. Despite having me as his mother, he has somehow mastered the wise art of doing one thing at a time. If he’s eating a hot dog, he’s thinking about the tanginess of the ketchup. If he’s playing on the rope swing, he’s feeling the butterflies in his stomach and the wind on his face. If he’s taking a bath, he’s wondering how long he can stay in there until the water gets too cold. This is a wise soul. Yes, with enough practice, I can do this.

There’s a great piece of wisdom that I found in the pages of the cookbook Tomato Blessings and Radish Teachings by Edward Espe Brown (yes, one weekend when I was trying to achieve the perfect tomato soup. The author teaches, “When you wash the rice, wash the rice. When you stir the soup, stir the soup.” I think that pretty much sums up the secret to living a full and present life.

This summer, I’m going to do the unthinkable and give myself permission to be a little lazy. I’m going to fend off the urge to pack two lifetimes in one, or as my friend Tony says, “Try to fit 10 pounds of coffee into a 5 pound bag.” I’m going to eat popsicles with my son and see if I can finish the last bite before it melts off the stick. I’m going to sit in a rocker on the porch and listen to the cardinals sing. In fact, I’m going to start tomorrow. Tonight, I have a pie in the oven, a load of laundry in the dryer and I need to pay the air conditioning bill online. I’ll let you know how it goes.

-Kelly Sopp